She found him in a pub
by MeElla
Summary: Short missing scene from when Payson went to get Sasha back to The Rock. Sasha's pov. One shot.


Found this old piece on the computer, thought I should share it.

.:.

He was standing behind the bar, listening, when Summer told Payson there was nothing Payson could say or do to change his mind. He could hear the air leave her. Could imagine the disappointment. It was difficult to keep quiet, he kept wiping down the same spot on the bar over and over again. Before he could say anything, protest, she was standing in front of him.

Her eyes were shining, but the strong girl he knew she was didn't shed any tears. Instead she was angry. Every word she threw at him was meant to hurt, and they certainly did. Every word pushed a knife further into his heart, and when she placed the medal on the countertop between them it was the final twist and pull motion causing him to not be able to breathe.

He was about to call after her, make her take the medal back, but when he looked up she was gone. Summer was talking instead. He couldn't focus enough to listen to what she was saying. The only thing he could hear was his heart screaming at him to go after Payson.

"Who was that?" Stefan, one of the regulars, asked with a whistle. "If Americans look like that in real life, then why did you leave?"

Sasha shook his head slowly, looking down at the medal again. If he didn't go after her now, everything would be destroyed. She would never forgive him, not after coming here to beg him to come back. Was this better? Hurt her so much that she would be angry at him? Maybe it was for the best, she would get over it. Forget about him.

"Was that an American gymnast I just saw getting into a taxi?"

Sasha looked up in time to see Chris walking into the pub. He pushed the sunglasses up on his head as he sat down on the barstool Payson had occupied only minutes earlier. But now she was gone. Again. A piece of his heart with her.

"Was that Payson Keeler?" Chris asked, pushing away the empty plate in front of him. "Doesn't look like it was a good talk."

Sasha took a deep breath, letting the air out in a slow sigh. "Wasn't really a talk," he said, filling up two glasses with beer while he spoke. One he pushed over to his childhood friend, the other he took a deep sip from.

"Did she scream at you?" Chris asked.

He almost wished she had. The words she told him... Nothing being screamed could have hurt as much. But he deserved it, he reminded himself.

"Why don't you just tell her?" Chris asked.

Sasha took a large sip from the beer before looking up. "She's 17 years old." It was a fact he had to remind himself of every woken moment.

"And you're 27. Are you going to let a number ruin everything?"

He didn't need numbers to ruin anything, he had gotten it done all on his own.

"Do you need me to spill it out for you?" Chris asked with his voice raised. "If you let her leave here crying you have ruined it forever. Do you get that? She won't forgive you for this!"

At his friends words he looked up. Crying? "She was crying?" He asked, the knife was back twisting in his heart again.

"Of course she was, you tool!" Chris shouted. It looked like Chris wanted to punch him in the face, but instead he took a deep breath before he spoke again. This time in a low and collected voice. "Romance or not, this girl came here begging you for everything you've ever dreamed about, and you turned her away. She didn't ask for the sun or the moon or even a star, she just needed you and you turned her away... I hope you're prepared to live with what you just threw away…"

Sasha wanted to protest, but he couldn't breathe. He did this for Payson. The decision had been made with her, and only her, in mind. He wanted to protect her. Keep her safe.

The thought of her leaving, crying, in a cab made him physically sick. He reached for the medal again, letting the metal dig into his fingers as he hugged it tight in his hand.

"It's easier for her to hate me than miss me," he whispered.

"Unfortunately I don't think one excludes the other," Chris said.

He closed his eyes and twisted the ribbon of the metal around his fingers. The picture of her wet eyes kept playing in his mind. He couldn't leave her like that. Alone, angry and with a coach that talked her into gambling with her own health. He took a deep breath, forcing his eyes open again. The red ribbon was cutting of circulation in his finger, but he didn't loosen his grip. He took another deep breath. He could be her coach. He had pushed his own feelings away for almost a year, he could do it again. When it was all over, when she had her Olympic golds and had retired, when he couldn't mess anything up, he would let her make the decision. He could do that. For her.

"Good boy, now go home and get your stuff and get to the train station! I'll cover your shift," Chris said, slapping his shoulder.

Sasha hadn't been aware he'd said anything out loud. Maybe he hadn't and Chris could read it off his face? "Thank you," he told his friend and pulled him into a hug before he let himself be pushed out of the pub.

.:.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.


End file.
